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Clamping down on her smile, which was surely ridiculous at this point, Grace slowly made her way downstairs and into the breakfast room.
There Lord Weston stood, his back to her, a plate in one hand as he looked over the various foods placed out on the sideboard. Grace moved silently into the room.
He was a good head taller than her, and while not being particularly broad, he did fill his jacket nicely. He either heard her or sensed her, for Lord Weston glanced over his shoulder.
His gaze met hers, and he smiled. Good heavens, but he was a handsome man. Quite the paragon, in Grace’s opinion, with his straight nose and firm jaw.
“I was beginning to wonder if I would be eating breakfast alone,” he said.
When the entire party was gathered, Lord Weston’s words often sounded aloof to the point of sometimes coming across as unfeeling. But when it was just the two of them, his voice was warm and inviting.
Grace reached for a plate at one end of the sideboard. “Judging by the amount of food already on your plate, you weren’t exactly planning to wait for me on an empty stomach.”
“Waiting is very strenuous work. A man has to fortify himself during times such as these.”
Grace laughed. She still wasn’t fully convinced, as Lady Augusta was, that Lord Weston would be willing to overlook her status in life and consider a more permanent connection between them.
Yet, when he laughed with her as he did now, she almost could.
“I suppose it’s a good thing I came down when I did,” Grace said, turning to the rich assortment of foods and adding some ham and boiled eggs to her plate. “I would hate to see what would have become of you if I had tarried.”
Lord Weston broke off a piece of toast and popped it in his mouth, then grunted and nodded his head in agreement. “I would have withered away to nothing if not for my morning coffee.” He turned and moved over to the table.
Grace didn’t turn and ogle him as he walked away, though she was sorely tempted to. Instead, she picked up a mug.
“I prefer drinking chocolate myself.” She ladled herself some, then joined him at the table, sitting directly beside him.
How easy it was to be with Lord Weston, laughing, teasing. And, heavens, that smile.
“I can’t say that I’ve ever been one much for drinking chocolate,” he said.
“Perhaps your cook wasn’t preparing it well? The drink can be quite bitter.”
“Is Bridgecross’s cook any good?” He reached over and took hold of her mug.
At Grace’s nod, he picked it up and took a long drink. It was strange, sitting beside him, talking, fully at ease as though this were merely another breakfast shared with a friend.
All the while, nothing felt the same. Was it only wishful thinking that made her see a spark in his eyes, a desire in his smile? Or had it been there before today, and she’d simply been blind to it? She wished she knew.
He pulled her mug away and studied it closely. “I think you may be right. Ifthisis what drinking chocolate is supposed to taste like, then I understand why nearly every woman in England is so in love with it.”
“There now, aren’t you glad you waited for me to join you for breakfast? Otherwise, you’d still be ignorant.”
He set her mug down, and this time, the smile he gave her was enough to melt the chocolate in her drink all by itself.
“Oh, Miss Stewart,” he said, his voice suddenly low and warm. “You are always worth the wait.”
Her breath caught in her throat. Dear angels above.
His lips ticked upward in a half smile, and Grace found she would have been quite content looking into those robin-egg blue eyes all day. He looked so sincere. And his tone was so forthright.
Could he truly be developing feelings for her?
In that moment, she felt quite certain she was developing feelings for him. Feelings she’d been too scared to admit to before. But now? It was looking more and more likely that Lady Augusta had been right.
Voices echoed about the corridor just outside, and they both shifted, returning their gazes to their plates. Lord Clark entered the room, leaning heavily on his walking stick and followed closely by his son, Lord Andrews.
Grace picked up her fork and tried to stab a bit of ham.
Next to her, she felt Lord Weston stiffen a bit. He always did whenever the room grew very crowded. How blessed she felt that he was willing to relax and show his true self to her.
Lord Brown and his mother entered the room next. And if the sounds that continued to bounce around the corridor outside were any indication, the rest of the party would be breaking their fast soon enough.
Lord Brown’s gaze found hers. Grace held it a bit longer than usual. It seemed to her that Lady Augusta had been right on another score—she did owe it to herself and to both these gentlemen to determine whom she preferred.
It was time she did just that.
